The Millennium Spork
by lucidscreamer
Summary: Shadi said, "You must spork the badfic!" A badfic parody in which Kaiba meets his bubbly 'other half'; Yami gets his own body thanks to the Plot Device Fairy; and Yugi ponders life, the multiverse, and everything. Or something. Crackfic.
1. Enter the Idiots

**The Millennium Spork**

(A fanfic parody by Lucidscreamer)

**Disclaimer: **Yugioh is the property of its talented creator, Kazuki Takahashi. The badfic situations and characterizations are based on or extrapolated from actual badfic and no one in their right mind would claim _those_. The mangling of certain characters' names is also taken directly from multiple badfics.

**Author's Note:** I've cleaned up some typos and stray punctuation. The site did some funky things (such as running words together, cutting some words and punctuation out altogether, and breaking sentences) that I've hopefully corrected this time around. I've made some minor revisions to the actual content, as well, since I wasn't happy with the flow of the story in some places.

_Please remember that the opinions expressed by the characters do not necessarily reflect those of the author_.

Thanks to Dragondancer for beta reading!

* * *

Chapter 1: Enter the Idiots

_The Kaiba Estate, just outside Domino City_

It was a dark and stormy night. Seto Kaiba awoke with the uneasy feeling that something was wrong besides the clichéd weather. Something far more dangerous - or, at the very least, far more annoying, since it was disturbing his beauty sleep.

Lying unmoving on the king-sized bed, he peered through slitted eyelids at his darkened bedroom. Moonlight from a gap in the curtains gave just enough illumination for him to see the room clearly. The silver briefcase containing his spare Duel Monsters cards was on the floor beside the bed. His beloved Blue-Eyes White Dragons - and the rest of his deck - were safely tucked into their own case, which was hidden beneath his pillow. Across the room, a Duel Disk Mark II lay atop an antique dresser. On the nightstand beside his bed, lay the book (Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_) that he had been reading earlier. Satisfied that everything was as he had left it, he closed his eyes and tried to force his body to relax, concentrating on each muscle group until the tension had eased. But sleep eluded him.

His mind wandered and he found himself going over his work schedule. He contemplated the problem of what to get Mokuba for his birthday, then considered the even more pressing problem of how to put a several-thousand-years-old, ancient Egyptian Pharaoh in his place. Finally, he found himself wondering what the fanfic writers were up to. That last one gave him pause. Why was he thinking about the fanfic writers? As a rule, he tried not to.

Frankly, some of them scared him.

"You can say that again," mused a disturbingly familiar voice, from uncomfortably close to his left ear.

"_Gah_!" Seto flailed as he shot straight up - and right off the bed. He tumbled to the floor with a loud, and rather painful, _thud_. Cursing, he untangled his legs from the covers and scrambled to his feet, falling instinctively into a fighting stance. It was pretty impressive, despite the silk pajamas with the little Blue-Eyes White Dragon embroidered on the pocket.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded, glaring at the figure lounging on his bed. In the dim moonlight, all he could make out was the slender silhouette of a man leaning against the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed casually at the ankles.

"That's... complicated," the figure said, rising.

Standing, he was easily as tall as Seto. In fact… Seto squinted. The intruder was _exactly_ as tall as Seto.

A terrible suspicion beginning to form at the back of his mind, Seto edged toward the bedside lamp. Already, he was writing out mental pink slips for his security staff. What was he paying those clowns for if they allowed random psychos to wander unchallenged into his bedroom in the middle of the night? The only random psycho he was even remotely interested in allowing anywhere near himself was Yami Yugi. That particular random psycho Seto was willing to duel anytime, anywhere - including his bedroom in the middle of the night. Why else keep his spare cards and a Duel Disk close at hand while he was asleep? (Yes, Seto was obsessed. This was not news to anyone, least of all Seto.) He would beat Yami and win back his title if it was the last thing he ever did! But that was _all_ he was interested in from Yami. No matter _what_ those crazed _yaoi_ ficcers insisted upon writing.

Speaking of insane fanfic writers… This was almost as bad as the time Security had let a Mary Sue through the front gates. She had made it all the way to the front door of the mansion before the automated Mary Sue detection system (which Seto had been forced to design in sheer self-defense) kicked in and dealt with the problem. Not even a Mary Sue could withstand a Blue-Eyes' Neutron Burst attack at point-blank range.

Seto fumbled for the lamp's switch, clicked on the light and, as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, found his second-worst nightmare had come to life and was staring at him with his own blue eyes.

Well,_ shit._ Seto groaned. "Please tell me you're not a yami."

"Uh, no." The intruder grinned. "My name's Seto Kiaba. I'm your badfic stand-in."

It was even worse than he had thought.

Scowling, Seto reached for his deck.

-o-

_Across town at the Kame Game Shop_

Yugi Mutou woke from a sound sleep (and a rather pleasant dream involving himself, Téa, and an industrial-sized vat of strawberry-flavored whipped cream) to the sound of someone crying.

_Correction_, he thought grumpily, as the noises ratcheted up several notches on the decibel (and angst) scale. _Someone sobbing his heart out._

Sitting up, he fumbled for the bedside lamp. When the light came on, the sight that greeted his eyes was enough to make him wish it hadn't.

Huddled on the floor by Yugi's desk was the small figure of a boy. The boy had messy, multi-colored hair, torn clothes, and a familiar golden object hanging from a chain around his neck. He lifted his sweet round face for a moment; it was covered in bruises and wet with tears. The pitiful boy sniffled and buried his face back in the crook of his folded arms, which rested on his drawn-up knees. He was the most pathetic creature Yugi had ever seen - and that included all the times he'd looked in the mirror to patch himself up after some bully had used him for a punching bag.

Yugi frowned. He was missing the ending of his favorite Téa-and-whipped-cream dream for_ this_?

He did the only sensible thing he could do. He summoned up Yami to deal with the miserable little wretch, retreated to the sanctity of his own soul room - and went back to sleep. With any luck, he could get back to his dream in time for Mai to show up with the chocolate sauce.


	2. Dance of the Plot Device Fairy

Chapter 2: Dance of the Plot Device Fairy

_Back at the Kaiba Estate_

Kiaba flinched as his counterpart reached unerringly for his Duel Monsters deck. He jumped up from the bed and held up both hands in surrender. "There's no need for that. I come in peace!"

"You can leave in pieces," Seto growled.

"_Ooh_," Kiaba said. "_Somebody_ needs a hug."

"…I did not just hear that." Seto closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle. Unfortunately, Kiaba was still there when he opened them again. "Shut up and duel."

"What's the point? I know every card in your deck and every move you're likely to make. We'll only end up in a draw."

Seto growled wordlessly. But even he had to concede that Kiaba had a point - besides the ones on his impressively flaring trench coat. "Fine. Just go back to whatever hell you came from and we'll call it even."

"Um," said Kiaba. "There could be a _teensy_ problem with that, actually." He held out the Millennium Rod.

Seto flinched. Oh, _hell_ no. Instinctively, he fell back as the other advanced. "You said you weren't a yami!"

"I'm not," Kiaba assured him. His faint smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin as he flung his arms around his horrified counterpart. "_You_ are. Oh, I'm so glad I've found you at last, my yami!"

Seto did the only sensible thing he could do.

He fainted.

-o-

_The next morning, at the Kame Game Shop_

When Yugi woke up Yami had not, much to Yugi's disappointment, Mind Crushed his annoyingly soppy double. Instead, said double had been cleaned up, dried off, and installed at the kitchen table, where he was currently staring at a plate piled high with Yugi's favorite chocolate chip pancakes as if they had personally offended him. Possibly by not being emo enough.

As Yugi watched, depressed!Yugi toyed with a bit of pancake on the end of his fork, stirring it around on the plate and making morose patterns in the syrup. Yugi found himself fighting the urge to smack himself. Well, not _himself_. The other Yugi. Or, rather, _not_ the Other Yugi, although frankly that was fairly tempting, too. Yugi stopped, finding that he had confused himself (the actual himself and not his Other Self or the other him sitting at the table) to the point of dizziness and decided to stop thinking about it altogether.

"Good morning, aibou!" Yami greeted him cheerfully, reaching across the table to place more pancakes on top of the stack already on the other Yugi's plate.

Yugi nearly tripped over his own feet. Since when had Yami ever been that cheerful? More to the point, _since when did Yami have his own body?_ He looked suspiciously from beaming!Yami to brooding!Yugi and frowned. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with the real Pharaoh?"

_'I'm right here_,' Yami's voice said in his head. Yugi jumped three feet in the air and glowered at the transparent form of his Other Self as it appeared beside him.

"Don't _do_ that!"

'Do what?'

_'Never mind_.' Yugi stared at the scene before him. There were two Yamis (one see-through, the other solid) and the other Yugi, still gazing despondently at his breakfast - which was rapidly putting the original Yugi off his.

_Wait just a card-playing minute, _Yugi thought, slamming on the mental brakes so fast he left skid marks on his cerebellum. What was wrong with this picture (aside from the obvious)? "How did the two of you get separate bodies?" he demanded, looking from solid!Yami to emo!Yugi with eyes that were even wider than normal.

"Oh, that. It's all thanks to the Plot Device Fairy!" chirped the disturbingly chipper Yami clone with a disturbingly chipper grin.

"The _what_?"

A rather put-upon sigh issued from somewhere behind Yugi. He spun around to find himself staring at... "_Shadi_?"

Shadi (aka The Plot Device Fairy) nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid it _is_ all my fault."

"What is?" Yugi asked.

_'What isn't?' _Yami retorted.

Unlike his more forgiving partner, the Pharaoh wasn't above holding a grudge and had a few thousand years more experience at doing so. He had an impressive list of things for which he held Shadi personally responsible, starting with Malik trying to kill him and ending up with global warming. (Yugi pointed out that Yami didn't even know what global warming _was_. Yami pointed out that he didn't care; he was certain that, whatever it was, the blame for it could be laid squarely on Shadi's shoulders.)

Yugi smacked him amiably. "Shut up," he suggested, then turned back to Shadi. "What do you mean it's all your fault?"

"You see," said Shadi, "I accidentally hit _him_-" He pointed to emo!Yugi. "-on the head with my Millennium Scales, and suddenly there were two of them."

Yami looked thoughtful. "You mean that all it would take for _me_ to have my own body would be for you to clout Yugi on the head with one of your Items?"

"Hey!" Yugi didn't especially want to be hit on the head, even if it meant he'd no longer have his body on time-share with a grumpy Egyptian.

"It's for a good cause." Yami patted him absently on the shoulder. (Even though Yami was currently transparent, his hand obligingly refrained from passing through Yugi's body. There might be a sound, metaphysical reason for this - possibly involving quantum mechanics - but Yugi suspected it was simply the multiverse's way of making his life even more difficult than it already was.)

"Yeah?" Yugi didn't sound convinced.

"Yes," said Yami reasonably. "_Me_."

"HEY!"

Yami just looked at him. "_Who_ gave up his life in order to save the world?"

"...Okay. _Maybe_ you have a point," Yugi allowed reluctantly. "But I still don't want to get hit over the head by-"

Too late. Yami had grabbed Shadi's hand (the one holding the Millennium Scales) and bopped Yugi over the head. Since Yami was still bodiless, this meant he had had to use Yugi's arm to do it. (While Yami could affect Yugi, there was very little else he could physically manipulate in spirit form. Yami had a sneaking suspicion this was also, somehow, Shadi's fault. Yugi figured it was Yami's way of getting out of helping with the chores.) So, in effect, Yugi had whacked himself over the head with Shadi's Scales.

"Ow," Yugi said. Then he turned and hit _Yami_ over the head. The Scales made a very satisfying _clang_ as they struck. A very _solid_ clang. Yugi gaped down at the no longer transparent - and currently very unconscious - Yami lying at his feet. Then he looked at the Scales. Then he looked at Shadi.

"I'm not sure how," Yugi said, "but I'm almost positive this is all your fault."

Shadi sighed. His mother had never warned him there would be days like this, but he rather felt that she should have. He sighed again, then attempted to get back to the point of his visit. "Chosen One, I have come to warn you!"

Yugi looked pointedly at the gathering around the table. "Little late for that one, aren't you?"

"They," Shadi said, with a dismissive wave at the duplicates, "are not what I have come to warn you about. Or, rather, they are merely a manifestation of the greater problem."

"You mean it's worse than _that_?" Yugi pointed at his duplicate, who was still sighing moodily into the maple syrup.

"I am afraid so. I have come to warn you that the walls between the universes have been weakened by the accumulation of badfic. This weakening is allowing some... leakage... from the other universes into our own. That is where these two-" He gestured at the extraneous Yami and Yugi. "-have come from."

"How do we send them back?" Yugi wrinkled his nose and eyed his doppelganger as if it were the product of a long night filled with too much tequila, all-you-can-eat nachos, and pixilated porno tapes. (Not that he would personally know anything about _that_, of course. _Ahem_.) The other Yugi was too absorbed in his own angst to notice.

"There are only two ways of reinforcing the walls between realities," Shadi said. "Of the two, the first is both the easiest and the least likely."

By this time Yami had recovered enough to sit up. Studiously ignoring the odd look his partner gave him, he shooed off the teeny, winged Dark Magicians circling his head and climbed to his feet. "What is it?"

"The level of goodfic must rise to outweigh the damaging levels of badfic. However, given the sheer number of Mary Sues, Gary Stus, chat!fic and just plain bad writing that currently plague the _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ fandom, that is unlikely to happen," Shadi expositioned with grim earnestness.

"So what do we have to do?" Yami had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer. The last time he had tried to save the world, he had ended up as a rather tacky piece of jewelry. He doubted he was going to like this solution any better.

"You must spork the badfic," Shadi told him. "Only by taking on and defeating the badfic, one on one, can the multiverse be saved."

Yami blanched. "Couldn't I just sacrifice myself again?" Compared to constant exposure to Sues, Stus and badfic (oh, my!), a few thousand years sealed in an inanimate object was beginning to look like a two-week layover in Tahiti.

"I am sorry, my Pharaoh." To Yami's admittedly biased ears, Shadi didn't sound all that regretful. "This crisis affects not merely our reality, but all known permutations thereof. Not even the power of the Millennium Items can defeat this evil alone. You will also need... the power of the Spork!"

Yugi said, "I think there's a box of plastic ones in the cupboard."

"I do not speak of ordinary eating utensils, Chosen One!" Shadi exclaimed dramatically, sweeping his arms out to the sides. Everyone but the two Yugis (who, even standing, were well out of the danger zone) ducked. "You must harness the power of the Millennium Spork!"

"Er," said Yami. "Aren't there only seven Millennium Items? Yami Bakura tends to be pretty adamant about that, actually."

"Ah, but the Millennium Spork is not from this reality. It is from the universe of the fanfic writers themselves and only its terrible power can defeat them."

"You are one strange, turbaned man. You know that, don't you?"

Shadi shrugged. "In order to summon the Spork to this universe, you must assemble the seven Millennium Items and their rightful holders. Then, and only then, will you be able to use the Spork's power to restore the multiverse!"

"Could I at least have breakfast first?" Yugi asked, somewhat plaintively.

Yami handed him a cold Pop-tart. Yugi glowered at him. His badfic double got hot, fresh chocolate chip pancakes and all _he_ got was a room temperature toaster pastry? In what kind of messed up multiverse was that any way to treat the hero of the story? Growling, he headed for the phone. First, he'd call his friends. Then, he'd thump his idiot Yami for not thumping his idiot Yugi-alike. Then...

"We'll have to go see Seto Kaiba."


	3. Honey, I Shrunk the Pharaoh

Chapter 3: Honey, I Shrunk the Pharaoh!

"Uh... Partner?"

Yugi returned from using the telephone to find Yami staring intently at something under the kitchen table.

"I think we have a small problem."

"_Another_ one?"

Yugi crouched down to see what Yami was staring at - and almost fell over in shock. Peering up at him from beneath the tablecloth, and a bright curtain of golden bangs, was a miniature version of Yami. Well, a miniature version of Yami if Yami had just come straight from ancient Egypt and was now sitting under the Mutou's kitchen table. A "small problem", indeed. Yugi was too captivated by the utter cuteness of a tiny Yami in white linen and gold to figure out how this was almost certainly Shadi's fault.

"Aw, he's so _cute_!"

Yugi's head whipped around, but, despite the distinctive voice, it wasn't his Yami commenting on the child's adorableness. It was the duplicate Yami, who had crouched down next to Yugi and was now peeking under the tablecloth to get a good look at the 'small problem'.

"Look, aibou! A mini-me!" Dupli-Yami chirped. "Isn't he the _cutest_ thing?"

Emo!Yugi turned wide, betrayed eyes on his Other Self. "You like him better than you like me!" he wailed, tears glistening on his delicate porcelain cheeks, before sliding off his chair and bolting from the kitchen.

Everyone, including the miniature pharaoh, stared after him.

"Eh-heh," said no-longer-chirpy!Yami, shoulders sagging most unchirpily. He even managed an anime-style sweat drop that made the real Yugi want to smack him. With a brick. "I'd better go and-"

"Grovel?" suggested Yami. He didn't bother hiding the sneer.

"Uh..." Dupli-Yami looked briefly offended, then wilted even further. "…Yeah." He sighed and ran after his departed emo!aibou.

Yugi and Yami exchanged glances.

"Whipped," Yami said.

"Like an industrial-sized vat of cream." Yugi's eyes momentarily glazed over as he thought about industrial-sized vats of whipped cream and the uses thereof. _Mmmm_.

Yami smacked him on the back of the head. "I can still see what you're thinking, Yugi. Stop thinking of _that_."

Yugi attempted to glower, but he simply didn't have the face for it. (When one has eyes like a Disney character gone horribly wrong, it's difficult to look threatening. Yugi spent at least half an hour every day practicing menacing looks in the bathroom mirror but, so far, the only results were Yami buying him face cream to combat frown lines - "Scowl all you want in your Soul Room, but out here in the physical world that's _my_ vessel you're prematurely aging!" - and Grandpa Mutou wondering if Yugi needed more fiber in his diet.) He looked down, into wide violet eyes in a solemn little face. "What's wrong, little fella?"

Yami's mini-me opened his mouth and babbled forth a string of what sounded like gibberish to Yugi. Yami, on the other hand, grunted in understanding, scooped up the child, and set him at the table in front of emo!Yugi's untouched pancakes. Unfortunately, only the top of the boy's spiky hair was visible over the edge of the table, so pillows had to be fetched from the living room to act as a makeshift booster seat.

Yugi cut the pancakes into manageable pieces, Yami handed his mini-self a fork, and the tiny prince was soon gobbling syrupy goodness like he hadn't eaten in three thousand years. Which, all things considered, maybe he hadn't.

Yugi beamed at the child. Yami glared at Shadi.

Shadi sighed. It was going to be a long day.

-o-

_A few minutes later_...

"Grandpa? Can you come in here for a second?"

"What is it, Yugi?" Grandpa Mutou reluctantly looked up from his sweeping. He liked sweeping. There was a certain Zen to the simple back and forth of the broom as it removed the day's detritus. Besides, it made a nice change from downloading internet porn. A man his age had to pace himself, after all. "Is something wrong?"

"No..." A pause, as Yugi's innate honesty overrode expediency. "Well, kinda. It'd be easier to just show you."

"All right, Yugi. I'll be right there." Grandpa sighed and reluctantly set his broom aside.

He really hated _sweepus interruptus_.

-o-

Grandpa stared at the miniature version of the pharaoh for a long moment, then looked up to fix Yami with a stern gaze. "Is there something you'd like to tell me, young man?"

It took a second for his meaning to sink in. When it did, Yami was scandalized by the accusation. "_Grandpa_!"

"You're five thousand years old, Yami. I should _hope_ you've been gettin' some."

"GRANDPA!" Yugi flushed as red as a neon tomato and fell over. Absently, Yami picked him up, dusted him off, and set him back on his feet.

"Up until about five minutes ago, I didn't even have my own body. I assure you, I have not been 'getting' anything that could result in offspring. The boy isn't _my__ child_," Yami said, fixing Grandpa Mutou with a glare that would make a basilisk envious. Grandpa, his thoughts filled with dancing brooms, was blissfully oblivious. "He's me _as_ _a child_!"

"What?" Now, Grandpa was confused. Even more than usual, which was saying a lot.

"It's a long story."

"Well, let's hear it," Grandpa said, with all the enthusiasm of a man who suspects said story is not going to include porn. Or sweeping. (Which, in case you're wondering, isn't much enthusiasm,_ at all._)

Yami sighed. "You see, it's all Shadi's fault..."

-o-

At some point during Yami's explanation, his duplicate had wandered back into the kitchen, where he stood staring at the pint-sized prince and grinning like a lobotomy patient.

The prince frowned up at him, then tugged on Yami's sleeve and babbled something that sounded as if he were complaining about an aromatic substance he'd found stuck to the bottom of his sandal.

"What'd he say, Yami?"

Yami smirked. "He wants to know if my... _brother_... was dropped on his head a lot as a baby."

Yugi snickered. With a supreme effort of will, he managed to stop it and wrestle a scolding expression onto his face. "Yami! That isn't very nice."

Yami's smirk took on a distinctly "cat in the cream" quality. Dupli-Yami's expression was more like a cat that had been asked to perform quadratic equations. "Why doesn't he just talk so we can all understand him?"

"He only speaks Egyptian." Yami managed not to add the _you moron_ out loud, but it was a near thing.

"That's just crazy talk!" Dupli-Yami said, with a disdainful sniff. "Everybody knows that the ancient Egyptians spoke fangirl Japanese!"

They all stared at him.

"Dude. What the hell are you _on_?" the real Yami demanded, once he'd found his voice. (It was under his suspension of disbelief, which, when it failed, had flattened it like a chocolate chip pancake.)

Yugi stared at Yami. Then he stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it around. Then he stared at Yami some more. Finally, he poked Yami in the center of his chest. "Did you just say 'dude'?"

"Uh." Yami replayed the last few seconds over in his head. "...No?"

"You did!" Yugi narrowed his eyes in accusation. "How do I know you're the real you and not some badfic version of you that snuck in, knocked out the real you when no one was looking, and stashed you in a closet somewhere so that you could take the real you's place?"

Yami stared at him.

Yugi poked him again. "Answer the question, imposter!"

"I would, if I knew what the heck it was," Yami said, beginning to glower. "Do _you_ even know what you just said?"

"Yes!" Yugi shouted. He poked Yami. "And so would the _real_ you, you fake-you you!"

"...I think you're giving me an aneurysm."

"_Ha_!" Yugi poked him. "I knew you were a fake! The _real_ Yami doesn't even know what an aneurysm is!"

"I'm receiving a practical demonstration even as we speak." Yami pinched the bridge of his nose in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the headache erupting behind his eyes. "And I assure you, I _am_ the real me."

Yugi poked him.

"Yugi! Stop that!" The command was accompanied by an admonishing glare.

Poke.

"Yugi!" If Yami were a volcano, the villagers would have been rounding up the sacrificial virgins and heading for the summit.

Poke. Poke.

"I mean it, aibou -" The villagers were launching their canoes and paddling frantically for safety on the next island over.

Poke. Pokepoke. Poke.

Mount Yami gave a final, warning rumble.

POKE!

Rocks fell. Everybody died.

...Metaphorically speaking.


	4. Dude, Where's My Cow?

Chapter 4: Dude, Where's My Cow?

Five minutes later, a lightly dazed and gently smoking Yugi was finally convinced - "dude" not withstanding - that the Yami currently standing over him and glowering like the wrath of (a) god(-king) was his actual yami and not one of the badfic Pod People.

As the last vestiges of the Shadow Realm dissipated around them, Yugi, swaying on his feet, said, "Sorry, Yami. I don't know what came over me."

"Hinotama." There was a smirk-filled pause. "_Twice_."

"Ah," Yugi said. He remembered that particular magic card from his duel with Malik-possessed!Joey. He hadn't liked it much _then_, either. He blinked slowly, then reached up and wiped at the soot covering his face. "Right."

Dupli-Yami was gaping at his original. "Dude-san! That was awesome!"

"You mean you can't summon the Shadow Realm?" Yugi asked cautiously. (His brain was incapable of processing a voice that sounded exactly like Yami's saying the word "dude-san," so it ignored it out of sheer self-defense.) When Dupli-Yami shook his head, Yugi sighed with heartfelt relief. "Thank God."

"You're welcome," said Yami.

"I wasn't talking to _you_!"

"Ingrate."

"_Yami!_"

"What? Would it kill you to make an offering every once in awhile? I'm not asking for a whole _cow_, here, just a small steak would be nice..."

Despite the fact that he was still liberally coated with soot from his latest sojourn into the Shadow Realm, Yugi narrowed his eyes. "Don't make me get the ladle, Yami."

Yami subsided with a pout. (Or, rather, _not_ a pout. Pharaohs did not pout. A Pharaoh simply assumed a dignified and regal expression suitable for a god-king... whose lower lip just happened to possibly be protruding the teeniest bit - in a dignified and regal manner, of course - that was most definitely _not a pout_ in any way, shape, form or fashion. It was a manly, kingly expression. Godly, even. _Really_.)

Dupli-Yami sniggered.

Yami glared at him. "Do not make me go first series on your ass."

Dupli-Yami blanched, then proved he wasn't a complete idiot by shutting up.

"Could we get back to the problem at hand?" Yugi complained. Shadow Realm or no Shadow Realm, his expression promised the percussive application of any number of kitchen utensils to certain spiky-haired craniums in the near future if they didn't cooperate.

"Certainly, aibou."

"Thank you."

"...I'd even settle for a lousy plate of Hamburger Helper."

Yugi handed him a cold Pop-tart. He ignored Yami's growl.

"_As I was saying._.." Yugi looked around pointedly. No one interrupted. He huffed with a sort of exasperated satisfaction and continued, "As I was saying, we-"

"Oh-Em-Gee!" Dupli-Yami suddenly shrieked. His eyes were wide with horrified realization. "It's been over five minutes since I was with aibou! He can't be left alone that long or else-"

There was a strange sounding _pop_ from the other room. It had a certain floral quality to it that was unmistakable, if impossible to explain. Dupli-Yami shrieked again and dashed through the doorway.

"_What the hell?_"

Everyone except Grandpa and the little prince followed the fleeing fake. (Or flake, as the case may be.) Grandpa looked down at the prince, who just rolled his eyes. He didn't get it, either.

Grandpa sighed with all the resignation of a man who knew it was going to be awhile before he could get back to his... sweeping.

The prince shrugged and went back to eating his pancakes.


	5. Bring Me to Life

Chapter 5: Bring Me to Life  
(Or, How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Songfic)

The Mutou living room was strangely dark, all except for the center of the room, where emo!Yugi lay sprawled on the floor like a broken, discarded doll. A circle of silvery moonlight surrounded him, making his frail form appear almost ethereal in its beauty. His pale, perfect skin glowed in the moonlight. His multi-colored hair shone like the softest of silks. He lay still and silent, a thin sheen of something that looked like greenish-yellow dust covering him like a pall. An artistic scattering of flower petals dotted his hair and the floor around him.

They all stood and stared at the tableau for a long moment.

Then the real Yugi walked over and gave his duplicate a friendly kick in the ribs. "Knock it off, you weirdo. It's mid-morning. There is no moonlight at mid-morning!"

The lighting in the room returned to normal. There was no other obvious reaction to Yugi's words, but emo!Yugi's silence assumed a distinctly sulky quality.

Yami turned to Dupli-Yami, who was looking faintly embarrassed by the whole display. "Care to explain this?"

"Not really, no." Dupli-Yami got a better look at Yami's expression, which had taken on an unmistakably "first series" cast, and changed his mind. "I mean, '_sure_, why not'?"

He sighed. "It all started when we were cast in this one badfic. The 'authoress' made aibou a bit... _dependent_... in that one, and when I left him alone for a few hours, he, uh, shot himself."

Yami looked over at the "body," which was quite clearly still breathing and bore no signs of trauma. Other than the greenish-yellow dust, and the lily clutched to his chest, emo!Yugi looked perfectly normal (for a certain value of "normal," anyway). "With what? I don't see a gun."

"Well... You see, fortunately aibou isn't much better at spelling than the 'authoress' in question and when she wrote that he shot himself with a 'pistil,' he took it literally."

It took Yami several moments to process that notion. "Are you telling me that he-?"

"Shoots himself with the reproductive parts of flowers, yes. I still haven't figured out how he gets them to fire." Dupli-Yami shook his head. "He ends up covered in pollen, but that's about it. Oh, and I can't let him get within ten feet of a florist, anymore. But it seems to make him feel better, so..." He shrugged helplessly, a _what are ya gonna do?_ expression on his face.

Despite himself, Yami found he was starting to feel some sympathy toward his duplicate. He ruthlessly crushed it. "So. What now?"

Dupli-Yami lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now, I have to show my 'terrible grief' over 'losing' him."

"Just how long is that going to take?" Yugi demanded, having given up on getting his duplicate to stop playing 'possum, despite repeated kicking. He wandered back over to join the main group. "We're on a schedule here, people!"

Yami gave him an odd look. "No, we're not."

"If _I _say we're on a schedule, _we're on a schedule!_" Yugi countered, glaring up at him. Yugi might not have managed a true glower, but he could muster up a decent glare when the spirit moved him. (Or irritated him.)

Yami patted him on the head. "No caffeine for you, today, aibou. You're wound tightly enough, as it is."

Yugi growled.

"See?" said Yami. He carefully moved his hand out of biting range, then used it to prod his duplicate into motion. "Get over there and grieve, already. _Apparently_, we're on a schedule."

Yugi beamed.

Yami rolled his eyes, though he was careful not to let Yugi see.

Dupli-Yami sidled toward his counterpart, who hadn't moved. With a dramatic cry, Dupli-Yami fell to his knees beside Emo!Yugi. The moonlight came back, bathing them both in its pale, silvern glow. Glistening tears welled up in Dupli-Yami's gem-like orbs, then flowed in glittering diamond trails down his golden cheeks as he bent over the fragile, still form of his beloved partner and drew one delicate hand into the firm clasp of his own.

"Oh, aibou! Wherefore hast thou forsaken me?" Dupli-Yami wailed, sounding utterly heartbroken. Obviously, he was a better actor than any of them had given him credit for, provided that by "better" one meant "over."

_Great_, thought Yugi, watching the fake Yami stroke the fake Yugi's cheek, with its false pallor in the phony moonlight. _Fake Shakespeare_. Bad _fake Shakespeare._

Yugi looked at the clock on the far wall. "Could you guys hurry it along? My friends should be here soon, and I really don't want to have to try to explain this on top of everything else."

The moonlight vanished. Dupli-Yami's tears dried up as abruptly as if someone had turned off a faucet. He looked up at Yugi and hissed, "It'll take longer if you keep interrupting!"

"Well, _excuse_ me," Yugi huffed.

Dupli-Yami ignored him as he went back to gently stroking Emo!Yugi's tri-colored tresses. The moonlight returned, spotlighting the pathetic parody of a _pieta_, Dupli-Yami's tears once more flowed like crystal waterfalls, and Yugi fought the urge to ralph up his breakfast, which reminded him who was to blame for this fiasco in the first place.

"Shadi, how long are we gonna be stuck with these-?" Yugi began. Only, Shadi wasn't there. Yugi turned a suspicious glare on Yami. "What did you do with Shadi?"

Yami was offended. Oh, _sure_, given his way, he would have used Shadi as the Millennium Stuffing in a golden turkey, but he had a feeling Yugi would object to that, so Yami usually settled for stabbing Shadi with pointed Looks rather than pointed objects. It wasn't as satisfying, but it kept Yami safe from the Ladle (having been on the receiving end of Yugi's mother's favorite tool of chastisement, Yami found the utensil fully deserving of the capital letter), and he figured justice would eventually be served, even if it took a few more thousand years for the dish to reach his table.

"I haven't done anything to Shadi," Yami said calmly. "_Yet_."

He looked around (intending to skewer the other spirit with an especially honed glare), but aside from Yugi, the only other people in the room were the two duplicates, who were engrossed in their melodrama to the exclusion of all else. Dupli-Yami appeared to be reciting cheesy poetry (or, possibly, boy-band lyrics) as he cradled his "fallen" partner. There was no sign of Shadi.

"He ran out on us, the traitor!" This was _so_ going on the "Things For Which I Blame Shadi" list, right after _Number One: Siccing a psychotic tomb-keeper on me_. Yami glowered at the doppelgangers. If he was going to bail, that bastard Shadi could at least have taken them with him.

Interrupting the Pharaoh's daydreams of sweet revenge, there was a knock on the door downstairs.

Yugi blanched. His friends were here! He glanced over at the two duplicates. Dupli-Yami was now clutching the limp form of his counterpart to his bosom as he crooned the chorus to _My Heart Will Go On_. This was what they had been reduced to: Celine Dion. Things couldn't get much worse. _Oh, well_, he thought, trying to look on the bright side. _At least it isn't Evanescence_.

"I mean it, you two!" Yugi jabbed a finger in the duplicates' direction. They continued to ignore him. "If you haven't wrapped up this mess by the time I come back upstairs, I'll let Yami Shadow Realm you both. With extreme prejudice."

Yami frowned at him. "I am not your enforcer, aibou."

"Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?"

"Wrong cartoon."

"How about for an offering? I think I have a Slim Jim around here, somewhere..."


	6. The Not So Phantom Menace

Chapter 6: The Not-So-Phantom Menace

Yugi opened the door, expecting to see his trio of closest friends on the other side. Instead, he found Yami Bakura, which sufficiently startled Yugi that he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head without regard for where it fell on the rudeness scale. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Yami Bakura smirked at him. "I sensed a great disturbance in the Force."

"You _are_ a great disturbance in the Force," Yami informed him, coming up behind Yugi and fixing the other "dark half" with a firm Look. "Shouldn't you be out stealing candy from babies?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be- Wait a minute." Yami Bakura glared at Yami, then transferred the narrow-eyed inspection to Yugi. With slow movements, he reached out and poked Yugi in the arm. Ignoring Yugi's yelp of displeasure, he started to do the same to Yami.

"Touch me with that hand and you'll pull back a bloody stump," Yami warned.

"How the bloody hell do you _both_ have corporeal form at the same time?" Yami B demanded.

Yugi rubbed his sore arm - Yami B had put a lot of force behind that poke! - and not-pouted. Yami smirked. He was wondering how long he could draw out the torture by not answering, when he heard his own voice spill the beans (and spoil his fun). Yami tacked yet another item onto the List.

"It was the Plot Device Fairy!"

Yami turned to glower at his duplicate, who beamed at him.

"I managed to deflower aibou!" Dupli-Yami announced happily.

Yugi choked on his own spit. Yami buried his face in his palm and wondered which God he had recently offended. A loud thud made them all turn to look at Yami Bakura-

-Who had fainted.

_Well_, Yami thought. _At least there's been_ one _bright spot in my day_. He caught Yugi's expression, which held several variations on the theme of "forget the Ladle, I am about two seconds away from dismantling the Puzzle." Uh-oh. (When aibou wasn't happy, nobody was happy. Especially Yugi's Yami.)

"Whatever I did, I'm very, _very_ sorry," Yami said, tilting his head and talking to the ceiling. He wondered where in Domino he could purchase a cow (or a herd or two) to offer up as restitution.

-o-

_Meanwhile, in the Kaiba Mansion's dining room..._

Seto sat glaring at his double, who was busy wolfing down breakfast. This included pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, juice, sliced fruit, jam, rice, a whole fried fish, pickled vegetables, a bowl of miso soup, and enough coffee to keep Seattle in caffeine jitters for a month. Seto had never seen anything so disgusting in his life - or, at least, since the last time Joey Wheeler had eaten a light snack in his presence. Like Wheeler, Kiaba did not so much eat as inhale the food like a vacuum cleaner set on "starving blackhole."

When Kiaba finally polished off the last crumb and sat back with a satisfied sigh, Seto growled, "Are you finished? Or would you like Cook to prepare you a side of beef for dessert?"

For a second, Kiaba looked as if he were genuinely considering the idea. Then he gave a delicate burp and a sunny smile. "No, thanks. I'm done."

There were no words for the depth of loathing Seto felt at that moment, so he settled for glaring hot, flaming death at his duplicate. Kiaba didn't seem to notice. "Fine. Now that you've eaten enough to feed a small island nation, let's get on with finding a way to send you back to whatever circle of hell you came from."

"But, _Yaaammiiii_-"

"Don't call me that! _Ever_."

Kiaba pouted.

Seto wondered if he could use some of Gozaburo's old military contacts to call in an air-strike on his own dining room.

Mokuba chose that moment to pipe up. "Why do you call Big Brother 'yami'?"

"Because he is," Kiaba chirped and tried to fling his arms around Seto, who fended him off with a piece of the leftover bacon. "He's my yami and I'm his hikari!"

"_Aw_, that's so _sweet_."

_Yeah_, thought Seto. _It's so sweet it should come with a diabetic warning_. "It's not sweet, it's disturbing."

If looks could kill, Seto's would have qualified as a weapon of mass destruction and nuclear winter would have been mere seconds from settling in over Domino. Immune, Kiaba beamed at him. Seto wished he had instructed Cook to season Kiaba's breakfast with a _soupçon_ of arsenic.

"Oh, stop being such a Grumpy Gus." Mokuba grinned at Kiaba, who was attempting to breach the bacon barrier with little success. "He _really_ likes you. It's cute."

Seto glared at his little brother. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself grounded? Because, if you are, it's working."

Mokuba gave him the patented "lighten up, big brother" eye-roll. "Kiaba will be good for you. You need a friend."

"Like I need a hole in the head," Seto growled. He narrowed his eyes at Mokuba. That had sounded scarily like the beginning of a friendship speech. "Have you been hanging out with the dweeb squad again?"

Mokuba grinned. Kiaba feinted left, lunged right, wrapped both arms around Seto, and proceeded to cling like an octopus with a leech complex.

Seto buried his face in the palm of the hand that wasn't pinned to his side by his duplicate's hug and wondered why, exactly, the universe loved to torture him. He had awoken that morning with a raging headache and the unshakable conviction that he had narrowly escaped from a horrible nightmare. Then the bedroom door had opened and admitted said nightmare, trailed by his traitorous little brother, who seemed all-too-thrilled with having a second Seto around.

_"Mokuba!" Seto said, eyes wide with betrayal. "What have I told you about consorting with the enemy?"_

_"Only to do it if I'm sure I can twist them to serve my own ends?"_

_"Good boy."_

Now, as Seto flailed his free arm and struggled to free himself from the clutches of his over-enthusiastic double, he reflected that there was only one way to redeem what was shaping up to be the Day from Hell - share the pain. And he knew _exactly_ who he wanted to share it with.

With that thought in mind, he decided to go visit Yugi.

-o-

_Back at the ranch, er, the Kame Game Shop..._

When Bakura opened his eyes, they had lost their sharpness. Yugi recognized at once that the Thief had retreated, leaving his host to deal with the insanity.

"Ow." Ryou Bakura rubbed his head where it had struck the floor when his dark side passed out. He glanced up at the faces surrounding him. He seemed to be seeing double - or possibly triple, as there seemed to be one regular Yugi and two Yami Yugis peering down at him. With the kind of resignation that only comes from long practice, he said, "What did he do this time?"

"Believe it or not, this time he's innocent."

Ryou snorted. "Have you _met_ my yami?"

"No, really."

Rubbing at his eyes did nothing to do away with the extra Yugis. "I think I may be concussed. I'm seeing three of you."

"Oh. No, you're okay." Yugi knelt down beside him. "There _are_ three of me. Or, rather, there's one of me - well, two really, but the other me is in the living room, so you haven't seen him yet - and two of the Other Me, which is confusing but doesn't have anything to do with you getting knocked on the head." He looked thoughtful. "Actually, it has more to do with _me_ getting knocked on the head, by one of the Millennium Items, so, you see, this is really all Shadi's fault."

Relieved to have gotten the explanations out of the way, Yugi smiled.

Ryou stared at him. "I think one of us hit his head very, very hard. I'm just no longer sure it was me."

Sighing, Yugi pointed to himself. "I'm me." He pointed at Yami. "He's Yami." The pointing finger shifted to the other Yami. "That's Yami's bad-fic stand-in."

"You can call me Dupli-Yami." Dupli-Yami offered Ryou a hand up, which Ryou accepted gingerly.

"Um, hullo. I'm Ryou Bakura."

"Pleased to meet you, Ryou." Dupli-Yami said, and then grinned at something over Ryou's shoulder. "And here comes my aibou! Aibou, come say hello to Ryou."

Still covered in pollen, Emo!Yugi moped into the hall. He favored Ryou with the kind of look Ryou was more accustomed to seeing on his darker half's face, and then turned to Dupli-Yami with huge tears glistening in his eyes.

"You're trying to replace me!" Emo wailed and ran for the door, which slammed behind him before either Yami could even try to grab him.

"Shit!" Dupli-Yami flung open the door and went after his AWOL aibou. It slammed behind him.

Yugi looked at his Yami. "Don't just stand there gaping like a drowning carp. Go after them!"

"Why? Maybe we'll get lucky and they won't come back."

"Or they'll do something horrible - like make everyone who sees them think they're us."

They thought about the way their duplicates acted.

"_Shit_," Yami said and yanked open the door.

"Hold it!" Grandpa poked his head out of the kitchen and fixed them all with a stern look. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"To retrieve our insane and supremely irritating look-alikes?" Yami made an impatient gesture. "And we're in a bit of a hurry, so if you don't mind-"

"Aren't you forgetting something? Or, rather, _someone_?" Grandpa stood aside and gave the prince a gentle push into the hall. Then he folded his arms over his chest and scowled at Yami and Yugi. (Ryou didn't know whether to be worried about the fact that Yami and Yugi had apparently had a child together without telling him or amused by the fact that said child had mimicked Grandpa's stance, right down to the scowl.) "If you're planning on going out, you need a babysitter."

"But, Grandpa-" Yugi plastered on the puppy-eyed pleading. "Can't you watch him? We really are in a hurry!"

Grandpa and the prince exchanged identical looks and lowered their arms. Grandpa sighed. "I'm too old to keep up with a toddler, Yugi. Particularly if he's anything like either of you were at that age."

Yugi served his best "do something!" look at his yami. Yami volleyed with a "why me?" Yugi's return backhand "because you're the cool one with the magical powers, dumb ass!" cleared the net and won the game.

"_Fine_." Yami reached for his deck. After all, what was the use of having access to a bunch of immortal, incredibly powerful servants if they couldn't do you a little favor every once in awhile?

-o-

Dark Magician stared from his Pharaoh to the Pharaoh's mini-me in astonishment and no small amount of horror. Changing diapers was _not_ on his resume.

"You did say your soul would serve me forever," Yami pointed out in a reasonable tone of voice that made the Dark Magician's hand clench tightly around his staff.

_I will not smack my Pharaoh on the head. I will _not_ smack my Pharaoh on the head_...

"Mahaad? I _can_ count on you to keep my younger self safe while I'm gone, can't I?"

Dark Magician sighed. Somedays, it didn't pay to leave the atelier. "Yes, my Pharaoh."


	7. Life's a Beach

Chapter 7: Life's a Beach...

Leaving the prince in the care of a resigned Dark Magician, the trio of Yugi, Yami, and Ryou barreled out of the Mutou's front door - where a flare of blinding light caught them and enclosed them all in a brilliant white bubble as it swallowed them whole.

(_Where it'll spit them out, only the bad-fic knows_...)

-o-

* * *

_Elsewhere_...

The Mutou residence had vanished between one blink and the next. What now met Yami's startled gaze was an expanse of blue sky and gentle waves foaming against sugar-white sand broken by the occasional decorative cluster of boulders. Unless Grandpa Mutou had gone on a new reality show called "Speed Extreme Home Makeover: Shoreline Edition" when Yami wasn't paying attention, something strange had happened.

Clearly, this was Shadi's fault. Before the Guardian had turned up with those rotten duplicates in tow, things like this hadn't happened to Yami. Ah, the good old days, when the only things he had to worry about were a crazed Tomb Robber, a duel-obsessed Kaiba, and Yugi's Mom's Ladle. He shook off the nostalgia, which was making him a bit teary-eyed, and growled, "Where am I?"

"Looks like a beach to me," said a laconic voice from behind him.

Yami, who had thought himself quite alone and therefore hadn't anticipated an answer to his question, yelped and whipped around. A few feet away, an unexpected figure lurked behind some tall, wispy grass. "...Tristan?"

"Yo." Tristan waved lazily, then did a classic double-take at the sight of Yami's new clothing. Instead of the duplicate of Yugi's outfit that Yami had been wearing, he was now decked out in tight blue pants, tucked into knee-high black boots, and a vaguely military-styled jacket that was seriously over-endowed in the epaulet department. "Whoa. What are you supposed to be? A parking valet?"

Yami chose not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he glanced again at their surroundings. Sand, surf, and a certain excess of seagulls vindicated Tristan's assertion that they were on a beach. There was, however, a remarkable lack of valet parking service to validate Yami's ensemble. (Tristan, it must be noted, was dressed in perfectly ordinary jeans, t-shirt and trainers, a fact doing nothing to endear him to the Pharaoh.)

As he stood there wondering where Tristan had come from and how the hell they'd ended up on a beach, the gulls' squawking reached a fever pitch. Yami cut his gaze back around to see what had set them off. The gulls, enough to re-enact a scene from a Hitchcock film, were squabbling over a mound of seaweed washed up on the sand near the edge of the water. They pecked at the seaweed fighting for primacy with bobbing heads and beating wings.

Clutching a length of driftwood, a hand erupted from the seaweed and flailed about until the gulls (complaining loudly at the loss of their hoped-for snack) hopped out of reach. Then, a familiar spiky head of hair popped into view.

"_Yugi_?"

Tristan at his heels, Yami hurried over to find out why his partner was lying half-buried in a pile of stinking seaweed. "Yugi? What are you doing down there?"

"Skiing." Yugi was definitely getting better at the sarcasm thing. He was rapidly mastering the narrow-eyed glare, too, since the one he leveled at Yami actually made the Pharaoh pull up short. Yugi frowned. "Why are you dressed like a maitre d'?"

"I think he's supposed to be a prince," Tristan said, his expression fairly bursting with earnest (and patently false) helpfulness.

"What?" Yugi, who was still lying on his stomach and half-covered in seaweed, gave Yami a horrified once-over. On second glance, the outfit _did_ impart a certain air of "royal scion." It also provided the final nail in the coffin of Yugi's hopes that none of this was what he had feared it to be. "Oh, shit."

"Aibou? What's wrong?"

Ignoring the question, Yugi buried his face in his palms. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no..."

"What is wrong with y-?" Yami, who had knelt to clear away the seaweed, froze. From the waist up, Yugi was naked. From the waist down, he was still naked - but he was a naked _fish_. Yami gaped at the purple fish tail that began just below Yugi's navel and continued down where his legs should be to end in a wide, translucent fin. "Uh?"

"Dude!" Tristan weighed in, summing up the frantic thoughts pinwheeling through Yami's stunned mind. "You're a fish!"

"I am _not_ a fish!" Yugi shrieked. His crimson face clashed horribly with his new purple tail.

"Sheesh. Mermaid, then. Sorry." Tristan rolled his eyes. Who knew those of the finny persuasion were so touchy?

Though it didn't seem possible, Yugi turned even redder and his voice went up another octave. "I am not a _mermaid_. I'm a _man_. Okay, merman. But, still, mer_MAN_."

Tristan made a show of looking him over. "Long hair, fishy fins... a little flat-chested, maybe, but you've got that seashell bra thing, so you sure look like a mermaid to me."

"-_man_, dammit! I'm a _merMAN_!"

"You're sounding kinda high-pitched, there, too."

"I am not a mermaid! Do I have to whip it out to prove it?"

"Don't have a coronary, dude." Tristan tried, and failed, to suppress a snicker as Yugi's tail fin thrashed in frustrated agitation. The gulls, which had been hopping back into investigative range, scattered in a flurry of squawks and feathers. "Besides, I don't think you can 'whip out' what you don't have. And fish don't have-"

"_Argh_!"

Yami decided it was time to intervene, before Yugi had a coronary - or threw a piece of driftwood at his friend. "That's quite enough, Tristan."

"Sure, spoil all my fun."

"I'm _so_ glad my suffering amuses you," Yugi growled, and collapsed back onto the damp sand with a huff.

"Hey," said Tristan, with what could only be called an evil smirk. "I just want to be a part of your world."

-o-

* * *

_Five minutes later_...

"Please tell me Kaiba's a fish, too. Lie, if you must."

"Well, there _was_ something about an 'Undersea CEO'. I think he's supposed to have tentacles, though."

"Doesn't matter, dude. A fish is a fish."

"I am not a fish! I'm a _mermai_- uh, _merMAN_. Why can't you get that through your thick heads?"

"Hey, _you're_ the one wearing the bra."

"And I come from an ocean-challenged culture, aibou. We were a bit deprived in the aquatic folklore department."

"I can talk to fish now. I'm going to ask a whale to beach itself so it can eat you both."

"Whales are mammals. Y'know, like you _used_ to be."

"...There are not enough words to describe how much I hate you right now." _Stupid mammals with their legs and their walking and their wearing clothes that weren't made of seashells_ _and meant for girls_...

"Dude. I'm wounded."

"Keep it up and you will be."

-o-

* * *

Eventually, Yami managed to convince Tristan that teasing Yugi into apoplexy wasn't helping them figure out what was going on. Then he calmed Yugi down enough that he wasn't trying to hit Tristan with the driftwood bat and could speak in coherent sentences again.

By that time, the sun was sinking on the watery horizon and Yami was exhausted. He sat down on the sand next to his appendage-challenged partner. "So, what do you suppose we should do now?"

"As long as it gets me my legs back," Yugi said, "I don't care."

"Maybe we just have to follow the story."

Yugi and Yami both gaped at Tristan, who raised an eyebrow at them. "What? I have ideas."

"What do you mean 'follow the story'?" Yami sounded doubtful but willing to be convinced. Yugi was shaking his head again and muttering denials.

"You know, the story you two are apparently starring in." Tristan waved a hand in a gesture that encompassed their surroundings, Yami's princely garb, and Yugi's fin. "Looks like _The Little Mermaid_ to me, with Yugi as the mer..._man_ and you as the handsome prince." He made a moue of distaste. "This is probably the Disney version, since I doubt the badficcers have even heard of Hans Christian Andersen."

"How the hell did we end up _inside a bad-fic story_?" Yami demanded. "We're not-" An expression of horrified realization crossed his features. "This happened when our doubles ran off. What if we've somehow been drafted to take their places?"

"Then why isn't Tristan a crab or something?" Yugi pouted at his depressingly normal friend, who smirked.

"I'm not popular enough to get written into much fanfic, of any quality." The smirk turned gloating. "The badfic can't touch me."

In Yugi's opinion, Tristan was far too pleased by this turn of events. He swung his tail up and smacked Tristan in the back of the knees, knocking him face-first into the sand. While Tristan sputtered and spat sand from his mouth, Yugi turned to Yami and achieved a full glower for the first time ever. The gulls fled in shrieking terror.

"Help me back into the surf," Yugi commanded his startled dark half. "I've got to see an octopus about some legs..."


End file.
